


Your Pride, My Prejudice

by driedraspberry



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedraspberry/pseuds/driedraspberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young, beautiful, and wealthy Caroline Forbes should've been the talk of high society in Bath. But with blackmail hanging over her family's neck like an executioner's axe, she enters the city as a woman on a mission—find the most appropriate, most eligible bachelor and wed him quickly before disaster strikes. It's too bad the most inappropriate, unaccommodating, ineligible and plain exasperating man won't leave her be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Early in the evening, Caroline Forbes entered the drawing rooms of her family's rather lavish country home. Per usual, her mother, Elizabeth Forbes, occupied her favorite chair, the French import—gilded, with pink satin cushion covers, and turned just so that she had the prime view of the gardens. Also typical, a green-shelled book rested on her lap. Unlike Caroline who strived to be the most accomplished in the lyre, in her French, and in her embroidery, Mrs. Forbes didn't take kindly to the few acceptable feminine pastimes. She got by through reading great tales of adventure and musing about how she'd like to have joined the British arms. Or taken on the high sea.

Caroline's ideas of fun were vastly different. For one, she could hardly wait for the ball that the Baron was holding in a fortnight—it would be her third since coming out. There were a million and one things still left to do to and not nearly enough time for them.

"Mama!" Caroline's steps quickened, her loose blond fringes bouncing. "Mama! I've found the prettiest ribbons for the ball. Oh they'll be so utterly perfect with my gown. Mama, you should've seen—mama?"

Caroline's hands froze while rustling through her basket of purchased goods. Her mother's back had hunched and a sound that was suspiciously like a sob left her, quickly followed by another that was most definitely a sob.

But that couldn't be.

Elizabeth Forbes wasn't exactly one of the faint, sensitive types—supposedly very fashionable these days with the ladies of London, or so the Threadway girls told Caroline.

"Is something the matter, mama? Did you and papa exchange harsh words again over…" The cushions creaked under Elizabeth as she turned. The sight of her red, puffy face shocked Caroline into silence. Temporarily.

"Mama? Please say something. What's the matter, mama? Is it auntie May? Or Papa? It was him wasn't it? I told you not to let him get to you. I don't think he means harm—he's just not very good at framing his words in the most charming, gentlemanly manner. You know he loves you, mama. He loves you so dearly. Remember last Christmas, mama? And your birthday?"

And yet, the more Caroline rambled, the more broken her mother looked.

She allowed Caroline's embrace, though briefly. Pushing her back with a gentle nudge, Mrs. Forbes drew in a long, calming breath and used her hands to smoothen invisible wrinkles in her dark skirts. When spoke, she sounded nearly normal, her deep tones holding their usual sternness. "It's too late, Caroline. I can't shield you any longer from this—though, I so dearly wish I could. I can only buy you some time."

Caroline blinked, not sure what it was that she was hearing. "Mama is—"

"Caroline, darling, I think you need to sit down for this."

Nodding, she quickly plopped down onto the nearest sofa and brought it still closer to her mother's seat.

"Caroline, do you remember our talks about sending you to summer in Bath?"

"Yes, of course, mama, but…" That hardly seemed like a topic that warranted tears from a woman unrivalled in her composure. "Did the Gilberts say no? But why? You did remember to tell mention that I'm the rose of every ball, didn't you, mama? Tell me you didn't forget!"

"Please, Caroline, that's not—what I mean to say is that I think it's best that I send you to them immediately. Would you like that?"

"Oh." That was definitely not the route Caroline had expected the conversation to take. "Yes, of course I would. Must you even ask, mama? You know how dearly I want to go."

She should know, considering the daily persistence with which Caroline reminded every single member of their household that her greatest, most ardent wish was to spend her first summer out in society at the Gilberts' Bath home. The Gilberts had no daughters themselves, but they had promised Caroline an appropriate playmate in their young female cousin who was also set to summer there. Though, Caroline was more eager about meeting young people of the other sex.

With her considerable charms, fair features, and good birth—a more than respectable inheritance of fifteen thousand pounds—Caroline was bound to be the talk of town. Welcome at every ball and dinner party. And sure to grab the attention of every eligible bachelor.

Caroline laughed startling herself as well as her mother. But she couldn't help it, and when she finished she was smiling from relief. How odd that her mother's first tears should be over something so trivial. Perhaps  _the change_  was upon her—the thought made Caroline cringe as no one liked to think of their mother aging, but it was better than the alternative.

Her mother's hands were hot when they found her, squeezing so tight the grip was a hair away from painful. And Caroline's mirth ended as suddenly as it had been sparked. "Caroline, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything, mama. What is it?"

"I think it's very, very important that you find yourself a husband quickly. I know you harbor fantasies of great love and romance—as does any girl your age—but you need to trust me, darling, your future might well depend on you finding yourself a husband promptly."

How odd.

Caroline was a wealthy heiress and not yet eighteen. She had nearly a decade of youth ahead. Why would she need to rush courtship? But when she asked her mother, the only answer she received was an insistence that Caroline should trust her. And to do as told.

"I've made arrangements for you to leave in a fortnight."

To Caroline's utter dismay, she would be leaving the morning of the baron's ball.


	2. Chapter 2

Knackered, Caroline forced herself from the cool carriage seat and crouched, slipping through the door and carefully descending the steps. The driver tipped his hat at her and when her skirts were a safe distance away, he shut the door behind her. "Where will I be taking your luggage, Miss Forbes?"

"Right there, 26. Follow me, Elfie." But she hesitated, taking her time to tighten the ribbons of her bonnet. And to run her hand over the buttoned front of her short coat, smoothing away the sparse wrinkles. Travel weariness was no excuse for a ragged state of dress. Certainly not for her first appearance.

Though, Caroline would soon realize that standing about a sidewalk where smartly dressed strollers were frequent was perhaps not the brightest idea.

Case one, a little boy ran headfirst into her bum.

Caroline's scolding was quelled instantly by his unholy wailing. Though tearless, she noted.

"Apologies, Miss. He never looks where he goes," called his frazzled mother, rushing to snatch the boy to her side. And hopefully to shut him up. "Hush child. Please, hush…"

"No need," Caroline said through a smile hiding gritted teeth. Not that the woman was even paying attention anymore as she herded the child ahead. Turning sharply, she shook her head at Elfie. "Is Bath always this much of a zoo?"

He bowed his head, his lips upturned in amusement. "You'll get accustomed to it in time, Miss Forbes."

That might be so, but it didn't make it any less unpleasant.

As Caroline began to cross the sidewalk, she only just avoided a second collision. This time it wasn't with a child but with a tall, broad person. He spun on the spot, his eyes catching the hem of her skirts and slowly traveling up.

Caroline blushed, never having been so thoroughly examined by anyone of the other sex. Much less someone handsome.

Male company in the country was of little variety. Nearly all pudgy, slight, and piglet pink from all the riding they did for sport. Tall, dark and handsome was positively exotic.

But her admiration quickly turned to revulsion when the boy's face contorted into a vulgar smile and he said, "My, my, aren't you a delectable piece."

And just like that, Caroline's quicksilver temper got flared. She was about to share a few choice words with the lech, breaking her promise to her mother about keeping her tongue in check and her manners mild and pleasing. However, she'd only gotten out an enraged " _Sir_ " before another stepped between, blocking the lech's way.

"Don't mind my ill mannered brother, dearie. He might've attended Oxford, but he has barely been weaned off our nanny's apron strings." More than her intervention, the girl's lavish silk skirts sparked Caroline's interest. Few would be dressed so fine this time of the day, and certainly not for a mere stroll about.

"Sister, you've been  _out_ for a whole day and half. Don't make me laugh."

But the girl ignored him and stepped closer to Caroline, her cheeks dimpling. "What he actually means is that you're a rose fresh for plucking."

Caroline chucked politely ignoring her still hot cheeks. "You're too kind."

"Hardly." The girl's smile widened. "Rebekah Mikaelson, Countess Esther's only daughter. The lecherous troll here is my brother, Kol. And you are?"

Caroline quickly bowed her head respectfully. Nobility seemed about right. For the girl at least. "Caroline Forbes. From Devonshire. Freshly vacated, actually."

"Devonshire? I shall have to visit there if all the girls are as pretty as you." The lech chuckled and leaned in over his sister's shoulder, sweeping Caroline's form up and down twice more. "Country women are wild breeds. So very amusing."

"Oh Kol, do shut up." Lady Rebekah glanced past Caroline to where Elfie was patiently waiting with her luggage. "Where are you headed, Miss Forbes?"

Caroline nudged her head towards the corner house. "Number 26. My friends, the Gilberts."

Lady Rebekah made no show of recognition but a second later, her brother tsked, his smirk returning. "Ah, yes. I remember the Gilberts. Mrs. Gilbert, specifically. She is pretty little thing. I did so enjoy her intercourse that one time at the Donovan's."

Caroline involuntarily shuddered. Flirtations were common enough, even in the country, but with a married woman?

Thankfully the siblings didn't seem to notice, too busy staring daggers at each other. Lord Kol cocked his head, feigning sympathy. "But you've never been to the Donovan's have you, sister? Of course not, you weren't  _out_  last summer."

She responded in a manner unbecoming of a lady by baring her teeth at him and hissing promises Caroline didn't quite catch. But then, she turned back to Caroline, all cheery smiles and sugary tones. "Well, whoever they are, the Gilbert sound like a fine bunch. I know it's short notice, but I'd be delighted to have you over for dinner the eve after next, Miss Forbes. And please, do bring your lovely friends."

Caroline gasped, earning identical arched brows from the sister and brother duo. Flushing, she declared that she'd love to. And that she was sure the Gilberts would love to as well.

And they most definitely would.

Already an invitation to dine with the Countess! And Caroline had only just arrived.

Oh, but what was she going to wear? Somehow, everything she had brought didn't seem quite magnificent enough, without being too magnificent. She couldn't very well show up in a ball gown. No, she had be elegant, appropriate, with a dash of the unexpected. A peacock feathers? Her new pearls? The lip stains her father had brought from the East… And with those thoughts buzzing around in her head, she bid farewell to the siblings, and finally did manage to cross the sidewalk unscathed.

* * *

Rebekah rushed past the front doors of her family's Bath residence, acknowledging the house staff with a distracted nod. Kol followed, tossing his hat in the air, round and round. They had just returned from visiting the Summerlin and he wouldn't shut up about the many charms of their four daughters. And how they'd inspired him to have four women, all at the same time.

"Honestly, Kol. Won't you shut up, already?"

If she were going to listen to any more of this, she'd need a proper drink. Not the flimsy brandy Mrs. Summerlin served. That horrid woman!

They found their older brother, Klaus, in the drawing rooms. Sitting leisurely at the far end, just as they'd left him some hours ago.

The sunlight seeping through the parting of the sheer window covers streaked his face, making his lashes and eyebrows translucent on one side with the other shaded. The shaded side hid a thin, curved scar he had acquired in India—something he never spoke about, though Rebekah had a few ideas. He held the copy of Machiavelli's  _The Prince_  upright on his lap, reading, while his right hand lazily spun a glass so that its amber contents calmly swayed.

"Nik, what the bloody hell are you doing? You were sitting right there with that book when we left. It's been two bloody hours!" But he barely paid any attention to her. As if she'd never said a thing. Rebekah rolled her eyes at Kol, then stomped over, snatching Klaus' scotch and chugging the burning liquid down in one long swallow.

There, she finally had his attention.

Klaus sighed, exasperated. "It was a different book, Rebekah. But never mind that. How was your day, sweetheart?"

She glanced over her shoulder to where Kol shot back the final swallows of his whiskey. "I spent my morning helping Kol hunt—tedious work, as he can't think past shedding his breeches. I don't know why I even bother."

"Poor thing," Klaus said, holding back a smile. "I'm sure Kol appreciates—"

"Jealous, Bekah?"

"I am not!"

"Don't lie, sister. It's not a good look."

" _How dare you_? I've been—"

"There, there children!" Klaus bellowed, clapping his hands for emphasis. "Let's not start an uproar. You know how mother gets when we disrupt her afternoon nap…"

Mentioning the Countess had an immediate effect—silence all around.

Kol rolled his eyes and filled his glass some more, while Rebekah shot daggers at him, then at Klaus.

Klaus for his part sighed and reached over to the side table for the crystal scotch decanter to pour himself another. Then refill Rebekah's. "Any amusing accounts, sister?"

Plied by liquor, Rebekah's good spirits immediately returned. "There was one thing. Do you know the Gilberts, Nik? I've invited them to dine here the evening after next. And they'll bring their friend, Caroline Forbes—a darling girl fresh out of Devonshire."

His eyebrows jumped up. "A country girl? Are you so deprived of female companionship, sister?"

"Don't be daft, Nik. I plucked her for you. All wide-eyed and pretty, no doubt with strong notions of propriety, like all country girls. I thought it would cheer you up to ruin her. Just like old times." She glanced over her shoulder again, and this time to exchange knowing grins with Kol. "Kol found her charming, didn't you?"

"Yes— _charming_." His steps brought him close.

"Tell him, Kol."

"You'd like her, Nik. Tasty thing. And wound up so tight—ripe to be unraveled." He reached under Rebekah's chin and gave a sharp tug, undoing her ribbons completely. "Our sister knows how to pick them."

Klaus looked away.

He'd been caught in a persistent foul mood since returning from India. And Rebekah couldn't stand it. They should be celebrating after—after everything…

Their mother had always told Rebekah that they were cursed with unhappiness, like all nobles. That their lives would be a constant struggle, a battlefield with duty, reputation, and desire for power on one side, and the lesser  _wants_ on the other. And too often the lesser wants prevailed. To everyone's misfortune.

Rebekah was nearly eighteen, and had seen proof of that. Also proof of the skillful manner with which her family hid their missteps. Her eldest brother, Finn, was  _officially_  dead, when actually their father had disinherited him when he disobeyed by eloping with the gypsy whore, Sage. Or how Klaus' dalliance with Tatia was swept under the carpet the moment Elijah's engagement was announced. And Klaus was forced out of the country to oversee their father's lesser trade practices in the colonies—unsavory details often ignored in polite company. Still, at the core of their misfortune sat their father. And since he had died, Rebekah's greatest wish was for her family to rise above the past.

But Mikael had left too many damn scars.

"Nik, can't you pretend to enjoy yourself a little?"

He growled, wolf like. "Perhaps. But first, sod off, the both of you."

Rebekah and Kol traded scowls.

Niklaus used to be such fun.


	3. Chapter 3

The valet buttoned Klaus' cufflinks and finished with a final touch up of his ascot. It was too much fussing for a bloody family breakfast as far as Klaus was concerned.

He shoved past the valet and went straight for his crystal decanter. Whiskey was the only thing sustaining him through his time here. His sister continued to become less and less tolerable, and Kol more of a sod. Worse, every day it became progressively difficult to sit at his mother's table. To face her. To act as if he wasn't aware of her deception… But he had to keep it together until he knew all the detail. Until he was sure.

Without realizing it, he was downing a second glass. A third, and finally he was sufficiently buzzed to endure his bloody family.

When Klaus entered, Rebekah was only just settling into her usual seat at the breakfast table. She jabbered on and about some triviality or other while Kol mocked her.

Murmuring  _good morning_ , Klaus took the seat across from her, and waved the butler over for tea. "Any messages for me?"

"I'll bring them right over, My Lord." The butler bowed and scurried off. He returned with a silver tray bearing three small envelopes.

Klaus snatched them, wading through on his lap. Rubbish—rubbish—was that…?  _Of course_. The blasted seal that for months he'd been awaiting, and dreading in equal measure, had finally shown up. His chest ceased to rise and his hands, suddenly cold, itched to shred the thing to bits without opening it. But also he felt a strong incline to look. He had to know. And really, what would  _he_  have to say to him after everything?

"Anything interesting, Nik?" Rebekah craned her neck. No one was allowed secrets in their house according to her. His sweet, naive little sister.

He tucked the envelopes safely inside his coat and smiled. "Invites for tea. If you find those interesting, sister, you are more than welcome to go in my place. You see, I intend to return to London tomorrow. Sitting around in Bath has been so dreadfully boring, I can no longer stand it."

"You're not leaving me behind, Nik." Kol flashed Rebekah a faux-rueful smile. "Apologies, sister, but society calls are a bore. The whole city is a bore. What I wouldn't do to be in London today. I miss the clubs and our activities…and especially the many flavors of women of easy virtue."

Rebekah clinked her teacup in its saucer and stared between them with an expression locked between disbelief and horror. "Are you mad? Mother will skin you both. And skin me too, for—"

"For what reason will I be skinning you, Rebekah?"

They all jumped.

The Countess had entered without any of them noticing, ever so sly. She approached the table in quick strides, her silk skirts swishing over the marble floors while her heels drummed. She was scarcely seated before the butler brought her morning mail.

"You should be asking Nik, Mother. It's his pigheaded design." Rebekah picked up her teacup and met his glare coolly. "Go on, tell her."

There were times when Klaus so wanted to strangle her. If only she weren't his little sister or a girl. Sighing softly, he said, "Mother, I'm planning to—"

"No."

"You haven't—"

"You want to return to London, correct? My answer is no." The Countess didn't even look at him—too busy shuffling through the five envelopes she'd been sent that morning. "You've been gone from society for too long as it is, any longer then it will be quite unbecoming. I won't stand for it. And you owe me grandchildren, Niklaus. You're reaching your thirties. Consider that."

Klaus growled involuntarily, only just restraining his fury into a tight bundle in his chest. "I owe you nothing, mother. Less than nothing."

At last, noting something amiss, the Countess froze and met his stare. "You owe me your obedience so long as I pay your expenses. Have you forgotten who funds your stay in London? When you inherit, Niklaus, then you may do whatever you please. Until then, you are under my rule. And I will be very severe with you if you disrespect me again. Understood?"

It took all of Klaus' will not to counter with accusations he had promised himself to hold back until their due. Instead he left the table for another shot of whiskey.  _She was going to pay_ …

"Now, Rebekah, am I right to understand that we're entertaining tonight?"

Rebekah's eyes widened at being so abruptly accosted after the cold talking to Klaus had received. But like always, she quickly found her poise. Always and forever their mother's daughter. "The Gilberts, mother. And their friend, Caroline Forbes."

"I see. They're  _good_  sort of people, I suppose."

"I mostly invited them for Miss Forbes. She's a lovely girl, but hopelessly country. I'd like to be a mentor to her in all things to do with good society."

Kol squinted at her. "A mentor? You? Are you serious?"

But Rebekah ignored him and smiled brightly at their mother going on some more about the country girl. Not that the Countess was even listening. She read through her mail, and barely glanced at Rebekah once. And while Klaus was helping himself to a dish of soft-boiled eggs with a side of fried eggplant, the Countess finally spoke again. "Elijah will be coming in a fortnight."

Maybe Klaus imagined it, but Kol and Rebekah's eyes flickered to him.

He glared at each for good measure. "There is no dissention between Elijah and myself. It's been a long time since I've ceased to care about her—she doesn't even warrant a mention. Not anymore. And I'll be happy to see Elijah. Actually, I'd much rather him over the two of you."

Kol rolled his eyes and Rebekah coldly said, "In that case, I do hope Elijah will work miracles and make you less toilsome to be around."

"Finn writes too," the Countess said, refolding the letter that must've been his.

"He's coming back?" Rebekah said.

"No, he asks for money. Though, of course, given his situation I will grant it to him. However, I hope my other children know that they shall not be expecting me to fund their whole lives." Her eyes went to Kol and stayed there. "Any prospects?"

Kol sneered. "Many, mother. Though none you'd approve of."

While the attention was otherwise preoccupied, Klaus slid a hand inside his coat and retracted the envelope resting over his heart.

_I'll be in Bath soon. We shall have to meet._

* * *

To Caroline's great relief, Mrs. Gilbert sent her lady's maid to help dress for dinner at the Countess' residence.

Unlike Caroline's own back home, the maid was a stout, stony-faced woman. She remained that way, as much as Caroline smiled and tried to engage her in conversation, asking a thousand innocent questions about her life. But oh, city folk were a cold kind. Caroline eventually gave up, resigned to staring at herself with no outlet for her nervousness. However, her mood lightened when she saw that the maid had worked magic on her tresses, arranging them in an immaculate updo threaded with silk ribbons and pearls, with a few loose rings to decorate her neck and face. Exactly as Caroline had requested!

The maid answered Caroline's many exclamations of appreciation with a tight humph, too preoccupied with her finish. At last, she tugged hard on Caroline's curled fringes, and when they bounced back into shape she was satisfied. "You look marvelous, Miss Forbes."

Caroline raised her brow at the sudden change in the woman. Until then she'd been resigned to not receiving a single expression of praise. Or even that many words strung together. It was a nice surprised. She'd worried that she had annoyed the woman, as she was prone to do.

Pleased, she thanked her again and said, "Am I appropriate for the Countess' company?"

"You're appropriate for even the Queen's."

Caroline highly doubted that, though she allowed the compliment with a laugh. Then allowed the maid her leave to see to Mrs. Gilbert.

Caroline was decidedly happy with the result of the last two hours of preparation. Her make up was light, but as immaculate as her hair. Her gown was the dusty pink chiffon she had so luckily brought with her—yesterday she had pitied Elfie lugging about her slightly massive luggage, but today she had no regrets. And her jewelry was adequately fine for a highly respectable dinner.

Twisting around in front of her mirrors to inspect every angle, Caroline jumped at Mrs. Gilbert's sudden reflection. She turned quickly, grinning. "Thank you for sending your lady's maid, Mrs. Gilbert. I would've been a mess without her."

"I wouldn't leave you without, Caroline. Your mother would never let me hear the end of it. And please, it's Miranda." Mrs. Gilbert came closer to inspect. But instead of nodding in approval, her forehead furrowed.

Oh no—Caroline's heart sank. Did she commit some fashion faux pas she knew nothing of? The women of London were so distinct, so unusual…What was the matter? That last thought, she blurted out.

Mrs. Gilbert's eyes met Caroline's and she nodded before settling into a chair close to Caroline's vanity. Pointedly focused on dusting imaginary flakes from her skirts, she said, "Would you consider me as your confident, somewhat of an aunt, Caroline?"

"Of course I do, Mrs.—Miranda. If mother thought you less, she never let me come. And if I thought you less, I wouldn't want to."

Miranda smiled faintly. But the lines in her forehead remained.

"Oh please, now you  _must_  tell me. The mystery is going to be the end of me."

"It's nothing grievous, Caroline dear. Not yet. Probably never. Though, I cannot help but worry."

"Worry? Why?"

Miranda's gaze returned to Caroline's again, and her hands flew up to clear a fringe out of her eyes. "You're lovely, so lovely, Caroline. And you have a fair fortune. Those two things put together makes me fear that you may become quite  _interesting_  to the Countess' sons. And while their birth is fine, their reputation more than implies that the young lords are not at all gallant. Hence, I worry. As you know, darling, society overlooks bad behavior committed by men. But never for us, women."

There was more than one of them? Caroline cringed imagining multiples of the boy from yesterday ringed around her, showering her with inappropriate looks and nonstop crude comments.

"Don't trouble yourself, Miranda. I'm quite capable of handling my affairs. And I have no patience for rude, juvenile behavior from adult men."

* * *

Klaus had scarcely entered through the front doors when Rebekah was upon him in a rush of mint silks and glittering jewels, accosting him in hushed fury. "Where in the bloody hell have you been? I've slaved away all day organizing this dinner, and this is how you repay me? I could have been dining elsewhere with a dozen eligible bachelors. This is what I get for being a loving sister. I'll know next time not to bother. In fact—"

"Hush, sister. Hush before you make a scene." He stared pointedly behind her where a tall, feminine form slipped out of the drawing rooms at the far end of the hallway. "That is your country friend, I gather?"

Rebakah's breathing grew heavy while she reigned in her anger. Of course, the stare she gave him when she glanced back showed that wasn't about to let this go. "Don't you dare embarrass me at my own dinner party, Nik!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, sister."

She answered his smile with a grimace that quickly disappeared when she turned to wave the country girl over. "Caroline, darling, what are you wandering about for?"

The girl, Caroline, quickened her pace and Klaus watched with some amusement as her immodestly covered bosom bounced as a result. She was certainly a rose, just as Rebekah had said. Tall, slender, and fair, she possessed all the natural beauties of youth. And as she came closer, her light flowery scent held a tinge of grass that surprisingly didn't put him off. Quite the opposite.

"Brother, this is the flower I've been telling you about, Miss Caroline Forbes. Isn't she a doll?"

Klaus swept her up and down, and smiled slowly. "Yes, a doll."

She flushed at the compliment, though the smile that followed was not the slightest bit abashed. "You're too kind, My Lord, My Lady."

The Countess had only one  _kind_  child, and he'd yet to surpass adolescence. The girl's naivety was almost delicious—such a sweet thing to ruin.

"Caroline, this is my brother, Niklaus. I dare say he's more palatable in good company than the troll you met yesterday."

She allowed him to take her gloved hand and he kept his eyes locked onto hers—such sparkling lively things they were—even while he brushed his lips over her knuckles.

"Will you promise to delight us with a song after dinner, love?" He held her hand in place, as if threatening to keep it hostage until she agreed.

"Yes, please do. Mother will be so excited to see the lyre put in use. A rare few attempt to learn the beastly thing these days. You're an ambitious girl."

Caroline blushed a deeper shade than before, but nodded her head so hard her curled fringes bounced. "I do love to play. And I love a grateful audience even more."

Rebekah glanced at him—never one to pass up a chance to be smug. He smirked back.

As if remembering something all of a sudden, Caroline looked about. "What ever happened to your other brother, Lord Kol? He's not ill, is he?"

Rebekah scowled. "Goodness, no. He's just an insulting, ungrateful bastard who has yet to appreciate his little sister and pay her the smallest bit of respect."

Klaus' lips curled at one end. And when Caroline opened her mouth to undoubtedly spew some soothing nonsense, he shook his head at her. She trusted him and closed her mouth again.

"Rebekah, sweetheart, there's something—"

As if on a cue, the front doors burst open behind them. And in stumbled Kol in a state that was not meant to be seen by ladies' eyes. "Nik, you wouldn't believe what the little sod—"

"What the bloody…" Rebekah's words trailed off, hearing Caroline's shocked little whimper. "Kol? What happened?"

The two girls rushed on, flanking him, staring with wide eyes.

Klaus didn't bother. He hung back, grateful to Kol for winning Rebekah's sharp-tongued disapproval over him. And she was in such a hilarious state—furious with Kol for arriving late to her dinner and in such a miserable state, and yet, the very obvious nature of the red staining his once white cravat had her in a sympathetic fluster. "Are you hurt? Did you—did someone hurt you?"

But as Rebekah pelted him with inquiries—none of which he seemed keen to answer—Caroline slipped out of her gloves and quickly began undoing the dirty cravat.

"The blood isn't his. There are no wounds…" She bit her lip and glanced at Rebekah. "He should be fine with a wash and a change of clothes."

Rebekah's lips bunched. She finally had a license to be furious, since he wasn't really hurt. And she was going to let him have it. "Caroline, darling, would you return to the drawing rooms—you've suffered too much indecorum as is. I'll take care of my brother."

Caroline nodded cheerfully, leaving her gloves tucked into the ribbon high up on her waist.

Klaus quickly stepped by her, holding out his arm. "Let's find you a basin to wash up, love."

Her smile was raw and grateful. And like everything about her, untamed, so unlike the artful seduction practiced by the ladies of London. Like a wild horse she'd bristle at his advances, buckle at every too familiar touch even as she longed for it…a real challenge.

Just before he walked off with her on his arm, he twisted around and found Rebekah's stare. His smirk mirrored hers.

His sister knew him so well.

* * *

When Caroline had first arrived at the Countess' residence with the Gilberts, she'd been relieved to see that Mr. Gilbert would be the only male amongst them. What a welcome a surprise!

Rebekah, however, didn't seem terribly pleased.

When Caroline had asked about it, she pouted and complained that this was the first dinner she'd be hosting and that wanted as many of her family as she could have there to support her. Caroline didn't see the big problem, but maybe bigger families were more obsessive about each other's company. Caroline wouldn't know. She had no siblings—and the more she saw of Rebekah and her family, the more grateful she was for that.

When Rebekah had left the drawing rooms, Caroline had thought it best to follow, to try to comfort her. She hadn't expected everything that came after.

She certainly hadn't expected to find a second brother even more handsome, but perhaps he was only more to her taste. Further, she hadn't expected to enjoy looking at him. Enjoy being near him. It was the oddest thing. Like she was fast infatuated with a complete stranger. She supposed he reminded her of an animal of the wild, like the wolf she'd once seen as a girl…and nearly gotten herself killed.

"Please, call me Klaus, love."

Caroline allowed him to take her hand and dry it with the handkerchief the servants had brought alongside the washbasin. He was so very attentive. And after, he held it, bare. And brought it to his lips. The hint of stubble tickled her, but his lips were so soft, and so hot.

She imagined their soft touch on her neck. Pressing hotly to her lips. Heat creep up along her neck at the thought.

Her color must've changed because his smile was too knowing. It made Caroline rather prompt—practically aggressive—about snatching her hand away and quickly dressing it with her glove.

"Shall we?"

That smile wasn't gone yet.

She met it with a cool look. "Yes, let's. The others should be seated at the dining table."

She desperately hoped she'd be assigned a place far from Klaus. Otherwise eating was going to be difficult business. She'd get nervous and then have to worry over slopping things, like a child not yet accustomed to proper maneuver of her utensils.

But even that seemed to be written all over her face, because Klaus leaned in and whispered, "Would like me to feed you, love? I'll be tender."

" _Sir_ ," she squeaked in protestation and would've had more to say if he hadn't hushed her. The surprise of it had snuffed her protests.

"Don't make a scene, sweetheart. The Countess wouldn't approve."

He was right. It would be most inappropriate…

Caroline smiled tightly, as if to acquiesce. Then stumped her heel on his booted toes, earning a harsh breath from him.

"Point taken," he muttered. And to her annoyance, he sounded more amused than cross.

Caroline had been warned about him, and otherwise, she knew better. He was more charming than his brother, but also the same inappropriate, juvenile, and ungallant sort. The attraction she felt for him was shallow, barely a millimeter deep. And inconsequential. Likely to fade after a good night's rest—she took especial comfort in that.

He paused before the doors to the dining hall, halting her, and lowered his face to her smirking. "You look nervous, love. Anything I can do?"

Yes, sod off!

But she couldn't very well say that to the Countess' son right outside of her dinning hall where their voices could carry. So Caroline smiled coolly and nodded, allowing him to escort her in.

It was going to be a long, difficult evening. For all Miranda's warning, Caroline hadn't anticipated just how difficult it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

Unfortunately for Caroline, it so happened that Klaus ushered her into a seat of his choosing and she had complied before she could stop herself. And once she'd been seated, as much as she might've liked to, rising and taking another chair would be making too much fuss—a most unseemly thing to do in the Countess' presence. So, Caroline conceded. And when Klaus settled next to her, she hid her wince.

She knew she was going to regret this.

Klaus was ungallant. Worse, he made her nervous—as if being a guest at the Countess' table wasn't taxing enough on her nerves. The two combined left her unusually quiet. And Caroline didn't often shut up. In any case, she was grateful for Miranda and her hogging of the table's attention with her talks of visiting the colonies, and of her niece, Katherine, who would be visiting in a fortnight.

To Caroline's great relief, nothing of note occurred during the first starter. And even the soup course seemed destined to pass without incident… And just when her nerves were beginning to calm, she felt an odd sort of tickling just above her knee.

Then she felt...fingers! A hand. Wrapped around her thigh!

Her spoon loudly clanged to the bottom of the porcelain dish, drawing all eyes. Caroline's cheeks heated—she loathed to ever be perceived as ill mannered, just as she was being right then. The Countess' tight lipped smile was both condescending and pitying. She probably attributed Caroline's poor handling of the gilded utensils to her being a simple country peasant…despite how far from truth that was.

But Caroline's worries were only just beginning.

Instead of retracting, the hand on her thigh traveled higher, slipping slighting inwards to her softer inner thighs. Caroline's fingers curled around the gilded fork meant to be used for the venison. A hair higher and she was going to stab him—the Countess' contempt be damned!

Perhaps the lech had read her thoughts, because instead of sneaking higher, his hand slipped off of her.

Her cheeks burned hotter now, and not from embarrassment. She turned to her left, meeting his eyes coldly. And to her increased annoyance, his lips twitched with what looked like amusement. He delighted in her scorn!

Caroline very nearly tossed her soup dish in his face. Anything to get rid of that stupid, smug smile. But thankfully, her better senses kept her in civilized. She might never have received another dinner invite all summer, otherwise.

While the soup course was being cleared in time for the next, in came Rebekah, all smiles and chirpy excuses. And Kol behind her, with a clean cravat and a new dinner coat.

"Good evening, Mother dearest. And what have we got here…" Kol paused at the doors as if to feast on the sight of them all at his dinner table, his exuberance burning like the sun at noon. "My, my. I didn't realize we'd be graced with these delightful people, else I'd not have kept them waiting. Apologies my dear Mrs. Gilbert. Mr. Gilbert."

The table tensed. The Gilbert clearly didn't share Kol's thoughts and met his exuberant friendliness with uneasy smiles and curt greetings (probably unwillingly given). And from the head of the table, the Countess stared at her son as though he'd ruined her silks with wine.

"He is an utter buffoon," Rebekah muttered, settling into the seat to Caroline's right and filling the air with her exotic, spicy perfume.

Klaus chuckled, having heard. "Let him have his fun."

Kol certainly wasn't done with buffoonery.

He paced around the table to where Miranda sat across from Caroline and took her gloved hand lovingly in his. Cherishing it with one kiss. Then a second. "Every time I lay eyes on you, darling, you are more beautiful than the last. What is this sorcery of yours?"

To Caroline's horror, Miranda actually looked pleased. She tried to hide it by tilting down her head in faux-shyness and by murmuring half-hearted refutes to Kol's compliments. But there was no hiding the bright glint in her eyes, or the slight, curling of her lips. None of which were lost on Mr. Gilbert who, despite his blank face, looked in danger of smashing the Countess' dainty wineglass in his fisted grasp.

Kol strutted over to Mr. Gilbert next, hanging an arm over the back of his chair. He slapped Mr. Gilbert's shoulder with his other hand, his smirk widening. "Hello, old boy. You look well, sturdy like your lot…"

But Caroline didn't hear the rest. She was distracted by Klaus staring at her. He leaned in when he saw he had her attention, murmuring, "You disapprove?"

"Yes. Yet, you ask that as if you expect a different answer—though, I can't imagine why."

He scoffed and moved a hair closer, holding her gaze as she did. "I would think that your rather wildly upbringing would incline you to see societal constraint on human behavior no more than superfluous tosh. After all, restricting the natural behaviour of the sexes to a monotonous tune is quite inane, is it not, sweetheart?"

It was Caroline's turn to scoff. "Well, you would be wrong. So very, very wrong. Society is what distinct us from the beast who run amok, always destroying because they act on instinct, selfishly caring only for their own immediate needs. Decorum is to ensure that we function well within society, that we are collectively at our most efficient—and as a result, we are all happier for it. I take no issue with society constraining selfish desires. I think it's all the better. The thoughtlessness of the male sex needs to be beaten out of them, and constraints can only help."

She inclined her head across the table to where Kol smugly took the seat on the other side of Miranda, across the table from Rebekah. "That is the result of too much privilege and not enough constraint."

Kol was certainly not a man worthy of good society. His noble birth meant he was beyond reproach. But that was only a pity. Perhaps if he'd been of gentry, his parents would've forced some decency into his head.

Klaus was still staring at her, even more intently than he had before. His expression still unreadable.

"In any case…" Caroline wanted to stop there, but the temptation to rant about the vulgar display she'd been witness to was too strong. Leaning a little closer, she fumed. "Flirtations may seem harmless, but they most certainly aren't when one party is wedded to another. Then, it becomes disruptive to the felicity of families involved. It's disrespectful and unkind. And it only serves selfish desires of two at the cost of being emotionally painful to another—sometimes more than one other."

He surprised her by bowing his head and agreeing. "And let's not forget, love, flirtations start innocent but they don't always remain that way. When one party is wedded to another, what could result of a  _flirtation_  is more than disruptive. It could very well be chaotic…"

His jawline had gone sharp, and while he was no longer looking at Caroline, but straight ahead at nothing, she bought his sincerity.

Maybe he'd lived through a courtship gone awry involving a flirtation taken too far.

Caroline shivered at the thought.

Her mother had told her that many Londoners had loose morals, by Caroline's standards. Some so loose that they would be outright shocking to Caroline's virtuous sensibilities. It's as if her mother had known she would be pulled into the acquaintance of the Mikaelsons.

Caroline could just imagine Elizabeth Forbes' amused face if she could see her now, leaned in, conversing civilly with a strange man who had caressed her leg underneath his mother's dining table! The thought made Caroline's neck heat, and not out of anger or annoyance this time. Any further and he'd have—

"We will have to discuss this further another time. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? If I can find the time to visit at the Gilbert's…"

Caroline's head spun.

Visit? The Gilbert's? Tomorrow…?

To her own shock, she wasn't totally opposed to this idea. Or at least, she wasn't until his eyes dropped to her immodest bosom, traveling up along her neck and resting only as far as her lips.

He was saying things, but she couldn't quite make them out.

Her neck burned hotter, the heat once again quickly spread to her cheeks. And by god, she was certain he could see the flush and read her mind. Read the wants that weren't supposed to be there. But Caroline wasn't a beast. She wasn't a creature that followed her immediate desires without thought. She was an elegant young woman. And she would behave as befitting the rose of good society and with utmost decorum...even if certain inappropriate notions were tempting. But not  _very_  tempting—only a slight bit. No matter, she wouldn't succumb to such cravings like a peasant girl rolling around in the hay with her laces half undone. Not Caroline Forbes!

Over dessert, the Countess turned her attentions on Caroline by bringing up her mother. They were acquaintances at one point. Caroline wasn't very surprised. Her mother had been a wealthy heiress, and before she had married, she had spent some time at court. In fact, Elizabeth Forbes had noble blood on the side of her mother.

"Elizabeth was a fine heiress. I imagine she hasn't left you with meager means… Do you have many siblings, Miss Forbes?"

Caroline might be new to society, but she was far from stupid. What the Countess was asking in essence was the size of her inheritance.

"It's only me. Of course, father's estate will be going to my eldest cousin, not me. But I'm my mother's sole inheritor."

"Lucky you." Rebekah sighed heavily. "I've got five brothers—er, I meant four. The eldest passed some time ago… Anyways, you're very fortunate, dearie. I would've very much liked to be my mother's lone inheritor. I suppose I shall have to settle for marrying well."

Four brothers? Caroline's heart sank, without her knowing exactly why. "Are your brothers all younger?"

"No, just one, Rik—Henrik. Mother looks well for her age, but she married at fifteen and…well, she and father were passionate."

The Countess scolded Rebekah for her boldness, which earned a petulant pout.

Caroline had cringed at the comment, the implications about the private life of the Countess—ick! But still, she thought it utterly unfair that Rebekah should be chastised for anything when Kol brandished such indiscretion, even now while he sat, adorning Miranda with near inappropriate attention. To Mr. Gilbert's continued frustrations.

But the matter of the four brothers nagged Caroline so she nudged the conversation back to its earlier course. "Lord Henrik, Lord Kol, Lord Klaus…and?"

"My eldest living brother, Elijah. He was the heir, and now that father has passed, he is the Count and has fully inherited his due."

Caroline ignored the fact that she was indeed disappointed. Why should she be? Klaus would never be the Count. He might not inherit lands to make him worthy enough to wed a wealthy heiress. But that was certainly none of Caroline's concern. Why should it be?

"But don't get any ideas, Caroline, dearie."

Caroline blinked, confused. "Ideas…?"

Rebakah laughed and craned her neck so she could share looks with Klaus, before turning back to Caroline. "I meant about my brother. About Elijah. He is married. Very happily married."

Caroline nodded, suddenly numb. "I have no ideas about anyone. And I'm happy for your brother. He sounds like a very important man."

"He is." Rebekah leaned him, lower her voice conspiratorially. "But, dearie, there are  _some_  ideas worth having. Ideas much closer. Perhaps to your left? You see? Our Nik is destined to be an even more important man than Elijah."

"How?" Caroline choked. She felt Klaus' eyes on her back, but didn't dare to turn. Perhaps he would note the disappointment on her face and mistake it for something it definitely wasn't.

Rebekah's eyes flickered from Caroline and behind her again, to Klaus. And right back to Caroline. "Our dear cousin, the Duke of Somerset, has always taken an interest in Nik—ever since he was a little boy. And as the Duke has no male relations of his own, he has long made our Nik the heir to his vast estates in the south. Can you imagine? My brother will one day become one of the five most influential men in all of England. I expect he will need a wealthy heiress by his side…"

Caroline's mouth worked soundlessly.

Rebekah couldn't be more obvious if she tried!

Thankfully, before Caroline had a chance to reply, Klaus spoke up. "Sister, you are overstep yourself. It's cruel to fill Miss Forbes pretty little head with fictitious hopes."

"Oh, Nik, don't be—"

But Rebekah's protests went unheard as Caroline whipped her head around, glaring furiously at Klaus, though managing enough control to keep mortified horror at a respectable volume. "Hopes? I have no hopes regarding—the one who oversteps is you, Your Grace. You make some unfortunate assumptions. Assumptions that couldn't be further from the truth."

Klaus bowed his head. "Apologies in that case, sweetheart."

"Please, I'd rather you refer to me formally, as Miss Forbes."

Klaus' lips curled at one end, but he made no protest.

Their little exchange, while kept hush, had attained the Countess' attention, who asked what their conversation pertained of.

"Marriage, mother." Klaus turned away from Caroline, to stare at the Countess. "I was just telling the lovely, Miss Forbes, about how I find the union as nothing but a garden seeded with betrayal and treachery. I've yet to see a faithful woman—I no longer believe she exists."

Caroline opened her mouth to object. To point out that the male sex was by the far the more, unruly and vulgar and—

"Niklaus, you are dismissed from table. You will leave now."

Klaus didn't argue, he merely did as told. When he was at the doors, the Countess said, "You will join us in the drawing rooms for tea. That is, unless you cannot be bothered to talk sensibly."

"Your Grace." He bowed his head.

But before he ducked out, he turned one last time and caught Caroline's eye. But not to smirk lecherously, as she'd have expected. Rather, he looked to be studying her...like she was a puzzle he meant to solve.

* * *

Later that evening, in the drawing rooms, Klaus sat with his tea, watching Caroline have a go at his mother's lyre. She had long, slender arms. Pretty and shapely, like everything about her. The music was sweet, sure. He so enjoyed it. But he missed her light flowery scent. Whenever she was close, it made him want to strip her and watch her soak in the scented waters of her bath...her perky breasts threatening to reveal themselves whenever she squirmed.

And just as he was thinking this, his eyes found her chest as it rose and fell with the strain of the task before her. He watched them unabashedly, waiting for her breasts to spring free from beneath the skimpy lace trim.

He would turn her into the wild beast she so desperately feared. All strung up on pleasure. Addicted to it. Screaming for it. It was a thought so delicious, he could almost taste it.

"You are studious. I assume you have a plan." Rebekah took the seat next to his, having gone to replenish her tea.

"I have many plans for her. So many things I will do to her delectable, little form. All soapy and wet..."

Rebekah laughed. "You like her."

"Yes, I thought that was established the moment I got a good look."

"No, I mean. You  _like_  her. Like you liked the first one."

The first country girl. Tatia.

Klaus winced. "There are enough treacherous whores in this room. No need for you to mention  _her_ , sister."

Rebekah blinked at the forcefulness of his retort. But she recovered quickly. "If you are so set on spewing misery all the time, Nik, you are sure to end up miserable."

Klaus had nothing to say to that. Instead he asked why. "Why do you suppose I like her as anything more than a conquest?"

"You were especially hostile at dinner.  _Fictitious hopes_... Detrimental to your chase is it not?"

He met Rebekah's self-satisfied smirk with a sneer. "The more difficult the chase, sister, the more pleasurable its rewards. You would understand if you were a man."

"I understand fine. Perhaps, you are entertaining new methods. Or, perhaps, I'm right, and you are developing another infatuation. Though, I suppose given the outcome of the last—"

"I was a child. I didn't know anything of women then. I know them now...and my interests involving them are of a single nature. Believe me, sister, this country girl is not about to challenge that."

Rebekah merely sipped her tea. "With your luck, Nik, perhaps that would be for the better. For everyone."

Yes. It was for the better.

His eyes found Caroline again, and this time they locked onto her face. Country girls were such innocent inconsequential things. And soon enough, even those naive creatures became treacherous and cruel. Though, watching Caroline's satisfied little smile as her fingers worked tirelessly at the strings of the lyre, it was hard to imagine her ever turning cruel. She had the sweetness of a child, despite her sharp tongue. And her sharper wit. He would mourn her when she ceased to be the lovely rose she was in that moment.

Rebekah was staring at him, her eyes too knowing.

"Shall we make a wager?"


End file.
